


you think i sound funny (but you like the way i sing)

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 04:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16803367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: five times Eren falls for Armin (and the one time Armin notices)





	you think i sound funny (but you like the way i sing)

_**i.** _

It’s a quiet day at Cafe Maria, which Eren doesn’t mind at all. He’d been working on his art class assignment since until three am, so he’s just glad that the cafe isn’t flooding with customers since he’s about to fall asleep right there behind the counter.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, if you ask Eren), Jean and Marco are there keeping him company, making sure he does his work. Other than that, the cafe is empty, so Eren doesn’t really understand why he has to be there. When he mutters this aloud, Jean is quick to remind him of his boss, Levi, who would probably stick a dust broom up Eren’s ass if he found the boy snoring against the counter.

“He can’t be that bad,” Marco says, raising his brows. Eren notices the way Jean’s expression grows fonder whenever he looks at Marco and wonders how the fuck Marco can put up with him.

“You haven’t met him,” Eren answers. “He might be as short as a hobbit, but I’m pretty sure he was born in the ninth circle of Hell and could rip out my spine and beat me to death with it.” Then he glances around because even though Levi said he was going away to meet his friends, Eren feels like the man can still hear him across town.

Marco blinks a few times before deciding to change the topic.

They are waiting for Mikasa and Armin—When Eren’s shift ends, they all are supposed to go to play laser tag with their other friends. Annie works there, and she’d gotten them free tickets, so this is an opportunity they simply _cannot_ pass.

The bell above the door chimes as Mikasa and Armin step in, and they bring in cold, winter air with them. It makes Eren shiver as he raises his head to complain, but then his breath catches in his throat.

It’s the snowflakes in his hair. The rosy cheeks and the tip of his nose. The clear, blue eyes and the smile playing on his pink lips. The way his face lights up when he sees Eren and waves at him.

(Eren knows he’s fucked; falling for his best friend? He isn’t stupid. That’s not good. Eren’s unbelievably, incredibly fucked.)

He stumbles, spilling his hot chocolate all over the counter. Mikasa rolls her eyes as she sits down, and Armin just giggles. Eren can feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he just _stares_ at the liquid dripping down onto the floor.

“You’ve got it bad,” Jean mumbles, almost inaudibly, and Eren shoots him a glare before getting the rag.

* * *

**_ii._ **

“I think this is a bad idea,” Armin says.

Eren doesn’t say anything, but he definitely agrees.

What had he been thinking? Asking Armin to come and play the new _Call of Duty_ at Eren’s dorm room had sounded amazing at the time—It’s been way too long since he and Armin had spent time together like this—but now, when he’s sitting on the cramped couch next to his friend, all the warning bells in his head are ringing on repeat.

Armin smells like coconut and maybe coffee, and it’s a weird combination but he decides that he likes it. He’s leaning on him, legs thrown over the armrest and his elbow digging into Eren’s side. His hair keeps tickling his neck, and Eren finds himself unable to move, glued to the spot.

“You really should work on the art project, you know,” Armin continues, and it takes a moment for him to realise that they aren’t thinking about the same thing.

“‘S okay,” Eren mumbles as he switches on his controller. “I have time.”

Armin turns his head, and Eren feels his warm breath on his collarbone, and _he should stop thinking about that—_

“The deadline is literally tomorrow night, and you’ve barely started.”

Eren hates it when he is right, which happens quite often. Armin has proudly claimed his role as his voice of reason, and while Eren thinks it’s not really necessary, he isn’t going to argue over it. He can’t, not when Armin rests his chin on his shoulder and looks at him with carefully practised puppy eyes.

“I’ll do it tomorrow, okay?” Eren says, hoping that he sounds at least a bit reassuring. “I’ll just skip morning classes, and I should be alright.”

Armin sighs but can’t hide his smile or the playful glint in his eyes, and Eren might just melt right there.

“Well, put the game on, then.” Armin pushes his back against Eren’s shoulder, and he fights the desire to wrap his arms around him.

Instead, Eren chooses _Call of Duty_ from the PlayStation menu and tries to focus on the screen.

* * *

**_iii._ **

Armin often sits at the other side of the counter while Eren works.

(“It’d be kinda sad if Levi was the only person you could talk to during your shifts, don’t you think?” Armin asks, when Eren points out the fact that the boy comes to the cafe almost everyday.

And yeah, it’s hard to disagree with that. It’s not like he’s complaining, anyway.)

(He doesn’t mention that he _does_ have co-workers.)

Today, however, Armin doesn’t come. _He must be busy,_ Eren thinks, and ignores the feeling of disappointment growing inside of him.

It gets surprisingly lonely. Eren hasn’t realised it before—usually there’s at least one of his friends sitting in the cafe, though he has had days like this before. Today feels different; he checks his phone between serving the customers, frowning when the only notification is an email from his professor. He keeps glancing at the clock, but the time doesn’t go any faster. In fact, it just slows down.

Eren swears that he hasn’t been this pathetic before. Even Levi notices it, and tells him in his own, less eloquent way.

“You look like you just failed all your classes,” he says, leaning on the wall, face stoic as always. “Did you? Because I wouldn’t be surprised, with the amount of brain cells you must have.”

Perhaps it’s just Levi’s strange way to show that he cares, or that’s what Eren likes to think. He’s used to it either way, so he just continues cleaning the coffee machine, giving Levi only a shrug as an answer. He’s been working under him for a year and a half now—this isn’t anything new.

“Or is it because your boyfriend isn’t here today? Look, he probably has other things to do besides sitting in this shitty cafe entertaining you.”

Eren chokes on air, Levi watching with an unimpressed expression as he coughs violently. Face flushing red, he glances at him.

“He’s not my–”

“Yeah, I don’t really care, just stop sulking around,” Levi interrupts in a bored tone. “Disinfect the coffee machine and cover your fucking mouth next time you decide to have a coughing fit.” He looks at the machine in disgust.

Eren sighs and goes to get the disinfectant.

The clock nears nine pm, and Eren thinks that this possibly couldn’t get any worse. The cafe is empty—he’s completely alone still has an hour and half left of his shift.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but Levi was right; he misses Armin. He tries to tell himself that he’s just lonely, it’s not like that, but when his phone pings, he practically _leaps_ himself across the room to get it, only to see a message from Mikasa, and he can’t help but feel disappointed.

So, yeah, he misses Armin. He might as well admit it.

Eren’s stocking the tea packets, when he hears someone step in. The cafe closes in a half hour, and it’s a really weird time for someone to come, but he still stands up from where he’s sitting on the floor and turns around with the customer friendly smile on his face.

Armin’s got a new haircut.

Instead of his old, longer hair that reached his chin, it’s now short. There are some familiar things still, like his bangs and the fluffiness that makes Eren want to run his hand through it.

“Eren!” Armin exclaims, taking his usual place at the counter. Eren’s staring at Armin like he’s starstruck, hearing his heart in his ears. The new haircut really suits Armin – the way it frames his face makes him look older, and, oh, he’s pretty.

Before he even knows it, Eren’s hand is in Armin’s hair, he’s stroking it, feeling the soft strands between his fingers.

(He wasn’t thinking, okay?)

(He doesn’t seem to think rationally at all around Armin.)

“You—you got a haircut,” Eren says after a few seconds of awkward silence. Armin looks up at him, confusion written on his face.

“I did,” he confirms. “Do you like it that much?”

Eren pulls his hand quickly away. He knows he’s bright red now, and he wants to bury his face in his hands but settles to just gripping the edge of the counter. Armin leans on his hand, amused, and that just adds to Eren’s embarrassment. He feels like Armin _knows_ , because he has that mischievous smile, the one that makes Eren’s heart do funny things.

“It looks—it looks good on you,” Eren coughs out. _Get your shit together, Jaeger_ , says a voice in his head, a voice that sounds suspiciously a lot like Jean.

Armin snorts, and it’s actually the cutest sound on Earth.

(Eren has done his research about it, and he knows he’s right when it comes to cute snorts. Eren Jaeger serves facts only.)

“Get me a hot chocolate, you dummy.”

* * *

_**iv.** _

Eren hasn’t even stepped outside before he’s pushed back inside his room and under the covers. Mikasa stands next to his bed, hands on her hips and looking kind of scary, so he doesn’t even try to fight her, but rather just pulls the blanket over his head.

He knows he shouldn’t have tried to go to class when he’s sick. Mikasa’s motherly instincts seem to always kick in when Eren’s in trouble, so it hadn’t been surprising to find her waiting for him outside of the dormitory. Eren had considered lying, but Mikasa isn’t dumb, and so he let her baby him back to his room—she’s just worried, after all.

Mikasa brings him a painkiller, a glass of water and a packet of tissues. “I gotta go to the class, but I’ll call you, alright? I think you’ll survive.”

Eren just nods. He’s not completely helpless, even if he has a pounding headache and a running nose. He’s not alone either, and if he needs something he can always ask Reiner or Bertholdt, since neither of them have classes in the morning. Maybe. Eren isn’t sure.

After finding out that he’s too tired to move, he decides to just give up and take a nap. He makes sure to message Levi that he isn’t coming work tonight—maybe Petra or someone can cover him—before throwing his phone on the floor and slumps back onto the bed.

In the matter of seconds, he’s asleep.

Eren wakes up with a dry, sore throat and someone poking him. Assuming it’s either Reiner or Bert, he tries to shove the person away, but his arm is too weak, and it kinda just flops down onto the mattress.

( _Like a noodle_ , Eren thinks hazily. That’s funny.)

“Go away,” he tries to say, but against the pillow it comes out as nothing more than incoherent mumbling. Talking also makes his throat feel even worse, and he makes a mental note to shut up for the rest of the day. Then a hand is pressed against his cheek—it’s a really nice, cool hand—and Eren nuzzles closer.

“Wow, you’re really hot. Mikasa wasn’t kidding,” a way too familiar voice says, and Eren’s eyes snap open when finally realises that Armin is there. _Why_ is Armin there?

It’s like Armin can read his thoughts because then he says, “Mikasa was worried about you, so I promised to stop by to check how you’re doing.” He sits down on the edge of the bed, and Eren furrows his brows.

“You’ll get sick too,” he mutters and winces immediately. He wasn’t supposed to talk, damn it! Eren reaches to take the water glass from the nightstand and notices that someone has refilled it while he was sleeping. He smiles to himself, and then, rather ungracefully, chugs down the water, hoping it would help his sore throat.

“I’m taking the risk,” Armin replies. “I brought you some soup. You should eat.”

Eren is more than happy to oblige, of course, if it’s Armin nursing him.

While he’s sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in a blanket, he realises he slept for four hours. He feels hazy and still tired, but maybe it makes sense since he’s sick. He hasn’t checked his temperature, but based on what Armin said it must be pretty high.

(Eren feels like _he’s_ high, and that’s probably saying something.)

Armin sets down a bowl of soup before him. It smells delicious, and just now Eren notices how hungry he actually is.

“Be careful, it’s hot,” Armin says, and then sits down across the table.

Hot. Eren tilts his head. Everything is hot today. He’s hot; he feels hot. The soup is hot. Armin is hot.

A tiny giggle escapes from Eren’s lips. “You said I was hot,” he whispers, because talking normally is still way too painful. Armin bites his lip, chuckling. Has Eren ever mentioned how pretty Armin Arlert is? Because having a facial structure like that should definitely be illegal.

“Well, you do have fever,” Armin admits. “Tends to make you pretty hot.”

Eren deliberates if he’s going to be satisfied with the answer, but then gets lost in his thoughts. Soup. He should eat the soup.

“Are you hot, too?” he asks instead.

Armin cocks his eyebrow, leaning back on his chair. “I don’t know. Am I?”

Voice in Eren’s head—it doesn’t sound like Jean this time—says that he should shut up right now, or he’s going to feel extremely embarrassed about the conversation the next day. _Blame it on the fever,_ Eren argues back, ignoring the voice.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like this soup.”

Armin blinks a few times, before bursting out laughing, hiding his face into his hands. Eren’s not entirely sure what he’s laughing at, but he’s happy that he made Armin laugh. Because God knows he could listen to the sound of Armin’s laughter for hours. Especially when he’s sick.

(Later, Armin tucks him back in bed, and Eren feels almost stupidly giddy about it.)

* * *

_**v.** _

This year’s Christmas party sucks, Eren decides, only a half hour after arriving. People are already drunk, and judging by the noise, having a good time as well, but Eren’s not sure if he is. Having a good time, that is.

Firstly, he can’t drink; he’s the only one in their friend group who has a working car, so obviously he has to be the one who’s going to drive his friends around the city when the party ends. No alcohol for Eren—now that’s a travesty.

Secondly, he’s stuck with Jean. All their other friends are dancing, and because Marco has already went home for Christmas, Jean “doesn’t have anyone to dance with.” Eren thinks it’s bullshit, and just an excuse for Jean to be a fucking nuisance, but here he is, standing by the minibar, with _Jean_.

Thirdly, Armin isn’t there. He said he was busy doing last minute Christmas shopping, which is totally a-okay. It’s just… Now Eren is stuck in this Armin-less party with Jean and with no alcohol.

Yeah, he thinks those are pretty good reasons for this night to suck.

“So,” Jean starts, and Eren already wishes he would shut up. “Armin, huh?”

“What are you trying to say?” Eren asks with his eyes cast down, the ground suddenly seeming very interesting. Someone’s spilled their drink on the floor, and maybe Levi’s clean freakiness has started to rub off of him because he _really_ wishes someone would clean that up.

“Well, you’re always acting like a flustered schoolgirl around him. Your crush is pretty obvious.”

Eren doesn’t like where the conversation is going, so he just ignores Jean, sipping his non-alcoholic beer. It tastes like piss, but whatever.

“Can I offer you, like, advice?” Eren is surprised by the genuineness in his voice. Jean looks satisfied when he finally gets Eren’s attention, tapping his fingers against his glass. There’s a smirk on his face and Eren does not like _that_.

“You should just tell him,” Jean says, and all he gets is an eyeroll.

“If you hadn’t been talking about cars fucking five minutes ago, that would be the stupidest thing you’ve said tonight,” Eren scoffs, turning back to watching the crowd of drunk people dance before him.

“No, I’m serious,” Jean says. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? If Armin really cares about you, he won’t let things go awkward, assuming that’s what you’re scared of.”

And if he hates it when Armin is right, he absolutely despises it when _Jean_ is right. Eren’s scared of things going awkward between him and Armin—their friendship is something precious, important, and Eren really doesn’t want to put it at risk. He’s happy admiring from afar.

(Sometimes he just wishes he could hold Armin in his arms, or hold his hand. Pepper kisses all over his pretty face.)

(Sometimes he imagines what Armin would look like sprawled against his sheets, crying out his name.)

(But only sometimes.)

He accepted it a long time ago, the fact that he feels happier when Armin is around, or that his heart starts beating faster whenever the boy hugs him or, hell, even _brushes_ against his arm. He has accepted that he is, in fact, undeniably in love with Armin Arlert, his best friend.

Because what would be the point of denying it?

* * *

_**vi.** _

Eren yawns, stretching his limbs in his chair as he glances at the clock. It’s nearly midnight, and he still hasn’t finished his essay. It’ll be a long night; thank God he brought coffee with him.

Armin is typing away on his laptop with determined eyes and his lower lip between his teeth. Eren can’t help but feel a little jealous, right now he would give anything to have his best friend’s brain and intelligence. Or he could always bribe Bert into writing the essay for him— if Mikasa found out, though, that would be the end of him.

They are the only ones in the library, which is kind of thrilling. The silence is heavy, only the sound of Armin’s fingers hitting the keyboard breaking it, and Eren maybe wants to test how slippery the floors are, see if he could slide in his socks across the room…

The laptop in front of him reminds him about the essay and upcoming deadline, and Eren sighs, trying to focus on the almost empty word document.

It’s no surprise when he catches himself staring at Armin instead.

He thinks he knows everything there is to see about Armin, but he really doesn’t. The dark circles under his eyes are new, as well as the one strand of hair that’s slightly curly. His lips are chapped, probably from the harsh winter air, but they look soft nonetheless, as always. Eren takes his time studying the boy’s features, getting lost as his eyes travel from Armin’s face to his neck; the skin there is pale and smooth, and how many times has he thought about marking it?

(Too many.)

(At first Eren had felt ashamed. He shouldn’t be having thoughts like that about his friend, right? But eventually he gave in—he couldn’t have the real thing anyway.)

His fingers are itching, he wants to _touch_ , wants to feel, but he can’t.

“Eren?”

He jolts in his chair when someone pokes his cheek. Armin is leaning over the table, waving his hand in front of Eren’s face.

“You were spacing out,” he says, but Eren doesn’t really listen. He’s too distracted by how close Armin is, how he can smell his weird coconut-coffee shampoo (yes, it’s shampoo, he’d asked), how he can see some specks of yellow in the blue eyes. Armin is pouting slightly, and Eren is so very tempted to press his lips on Armin’s mouth. He just might do it.

“Are you tired? We can head ba– _ah_!”

(He does it.)

Eren grasps the front of Armin’s shirt and crashes his lips against Armin’s before he can finish his sentence.

The first thing Eren thinks is that he had been right about the softness of Armin’s lips. 

The second thing is that Armin has frozen, and that’s when all the possible voices in Eren’s head go off, screaming _you fucked up you fucked up you fucked up._ Eren’s about to pull away, but then there’s a hand on the back of his neck and Armin parts his lips, and Eren’s brain shuts down completely.

Eren angles his head right, slotting their lips together. A tongue swipes across his bottom lip, gently guiding Eren to open his mouth and _oh_ , Armin tastes like green tea and chocolate he was eating a few minutes ago, and Eren craves more. He lets Armin lace their tongues, and when Armin sucks in his bottom lip, fingers curling in his hair, he thinks he might be in Heaven.

(Because Eren has prayed for this.)

And then it’s over, just as quickly as it started, the warmth of Armin’s lips is gone, but the hand in Eren’s hair stays. Armin looks at Eren with a look so fond it leaves Eren breathless.

“I like you,” Eren blurts. Armin’s eyes widen, and then—to Eren’s horror—he starts to giggle. He shakes his head, trying to stifle his giggles, but he can’t, and his eyes crinkle in the most adorable way.

“That’s—that’s a relief,” he finally says, cheeks tinted pink, “because I like you, too.”

Eren can’t help the wide grin that spreads across his face.

(Their essays are quickly forgotten.)

**Author's Note:**

> if the characters are a bit ooc, it's because i've never watched/read snk.....i just really wanted to write eremin fluff
> 
> (the title is heavily inspired by [we're going to be friends by the white stripes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKfD8d3XJok)


End file.
